"What will become of him no one knows," rejoined Mr. Tracy. "But it seems, he set out for London, with a bold heart, declaring he would carve his way for himself; and be dependent upon no man."
"A fine bold fellow--I like him!" cried the General. "Lily, my love, another cup of coffee, and more cream, or I will disinherit you."
When breakfast was over, Rose ran up to her own room, locked the door, and sat down and cried. "Then this was the cause," she murmured: "and he must think me unkind and mean."
About two o'clock that day, Rose went out in a little park phæton, with a small postillion upon the near blood-horse. She had several things to do in the neighbouring village, about two miles distant: some shops to visit; a girls' school to look into; and one or two other matters of lady life. Horace Fleming, too, came up and talked to her for a few minutes, standing by the side of the phæton.
The horses, one and both, agreed that it was very tiresome to be kept standing so long in the streets of a dull little place like that. As soon as they were suffered to go on, they dashed away in very gay style towards their home; but Rose was not likely to alarm herself at a little rapid motion, and the fastest trot they could go did not at all disturb her. Horses, however, when they are going homeward, and get very eager, are sometimes more nervous than their drivers or riders. All went well, then, through the first mile of country roads, and narrow lanes; but about a quarter of a mile further, a man very like farmer Thorpe--Rose did not see distinctly, but she thought it was he--pushed his way through the trees, on the top of the low bank, just before the horses. Both shied violently to the near side; the small postillion was pitched out of the saddle into the hedge; and on the two beasts dashed, no longer at a trot, but a gallop, with the rein floating loose. Rose Tracy did not scream; but she held fast by the side of the phæton, and shut her eyes. It was all very wrong, but very natural, for a woman who knew that there were three turns on the road before the house could be reached, and there, a pair of iron gates, generally closed. She did not wish to see what her brains were going to be dashed out against, till it was done, nor to fly further when the phæton overset than necessary; and therefore, she did as I have said. But after whirling on for two or three minutes, turning sharp round one corner, and bounding over a large stone; she felt a sudden check, which threw her on her knees into the bottom of the phæton, and heard a voice cry, "So ho! stand, boy, stand! so ho! quiet, quiet!" and opening her eyes, she saw the horses plunging a little and endeavouring to rear, in the strong grasp of the head-gardener, who held them tight by the bridles, and strove to soothe them. One of the under-gardeners was scrambling over the palings of her father's grounds, where the other had passed before; and in a minute the two fiery bays were secured and quieted.
"I hope you are not much hurt or terrified, Miss Tracy," said the head-gardener, approaching the side, while the other man held the reins; and Rose saw a look of eager interest in his eyes, and heard it in his voice.
"Terrified, I am, certainly, Mr.--Mr. Acton," she said, hesitating at the name; "but not hurt, thank God! though, I believe I owe my life to you."
"I was much alarmed for you," he answered; "for I feared when I saw them coming, as I stood on the mound, that I should not be in time. But had you not better get out and walk home. I will open the garden-gate; and then go and look for the boy. I hope the wheels did not go over him, for I suppose he fell off."
"I trust he is not hurt," answered Rose, allowing him to hand her out. "The horses took fright at a man in the hedge, and threw him; but I think he fell far from the carriage."
"Here he comes, Miss," cried the under-gardener; "here he comes, a running. There's no bones broke there."